Between Brothers: The Dark Side of The Story
by Rainey
Summary: A strange case dredges up a painful memory for Rick


Title: Between Brothers: The Dark Side of the Story  
Author: Rainey  
E-mail: Crazylikecat@aol.com  
Summary: A strange case dredges up a painful memory for Rick.  
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If you think you know everything about someone, think again--even if that person happens to be your brother. I thought I knew everything there was to know about Rick, but I was wrong. For years, he'd been keeping a painful secret, a story untold. And to every story there is a dark side...  
  
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The mind can be a mysterious place; a place of dark shadows and buried secrets. Just take the strange case of Taylor Martin. Our client was a young executive who worked for a major department store called Bartletts. And in just a few days he'd be marrying the boss's daughter. I thought he had a pretty good reason to be nervous, but that seemed to be the least of it. Apparently, someone wasn't too happy about the pairing and had expressed their obvious displeasure in a series of nasty pranks. Seemingly harmless at first, they soon turned ugly and dangerous. It was becoming clear that someone really had it out for the hapless bridegroom.  
  
But Rick and I noticed some subtle flaws, things that weren't adding up. There were no jealous former boyfriends in his fiancee's life, and every time an incident occurred, Taylor was miraculously absent.   
  
"I'll get you next time, Taylor," the latest note threatened. He always seemed to "just miss" his mysterious stalker. Rick and I were further stunned when we showed Taylor's picture to a couple of sleazy patrons in a bar on the seedier side of town.   
  
"Yeah, I know him," a heavily made-up, buxom bleach-blonde admitted as she studied the picture. "But his name ain't Taylor. It's Slack." Looking up, she ran her tongue over her bright red lips and eyed Rick seductively. "There are some guys a woman just can't forget, y'know what I mean?"  
  
"Yeah." My brother agreed wryly. "Uh, thanks for your help."  
  
Things had taken a strange turn, and a disturbing picture was beginning to emerge. Could Taylor be both our client and our prime suspect? We both felt it was time to pay a visit to the one person we hoped could fill in the missing pieces of the puzzle--his mother. And as we questioned the wheelchair-bound woman in her room at the nursing home, it all began to make sense. Our client, indeed, had a dark side, and a dark secret that he'd been hiding all his life.  
  
Taylor Martin wasn't an only child. He'd had a brother--a twin brother--who'd died young. His father had called him "Slack." But that wasn't all of it. The story turned darker still.  
  
"Mr. Martin never much cared for Taylor," Mrs. Martin told us. "Thought he was weak. He always said the wrong one had died. Should've been Taylor, not Slack."  
  
As I glanced over at Rick, I saw he had suddenly stiffened up. There was an expression of anger on his face and his jaw was so tightly clenched I could see the muscle twitching in his cheek.   
Something about what she'd just said clearly had him perturbed, and I had absolutely no idea why.  
  
"Did Mr. Martin ever beat Taylor?" Rick asked with a disquieting frown.  
  
"Beat Taylor and me." Mrs. Martin admitted.  
  
I stood, perplexed, as Rick quickly turned and walked away. Pausing by the doorway, he turned back to Mrs. Martin.  
  
"Taylor ever run away?"  
  
"Nah." Mrs. Martin waved a hand in disgust. "Didn't have the guts. But he did have something else to fall back on. Y'see, Taylor had a very active imagination. Lots of times, I'd catch him pretending to be someone else."  
  
Rick's eyebrows rose. "His brother?"   
  
"Yeah," she sighed, "his brother."  
  
It seemed we had our answer. The pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place only to reveal a sad, twisted picture of a man who was hell-bent on destroying himself and totally unaware of it.  
  
Rick simply nodded, and fled from the room.  
  
I hastily thanked Mrs. Martin for her time and ran to catch up with him.  
  
I didn't know what had come over my brother, but I was determined to find out.  
  
We had solved one mystery. Now I had to solve another.  
  
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Rick hadn't said a word since we'd left the nursing home. He just stared straight ahead with a troubled frown on his face, his hands clamped to the steering wheel of the power wagon. I knew he was brooding over something, and it was time to break the silence.  
  
"Hey, Rick," I turned to him. "How'd you know about Taylor's dad--that he beat him?"  
  
"Just a guess, is all." Rick muttered.  
  
He lapsed back into silence, that troubled frown never leaving his face.  
  
I looked at him, confused. "Rick, come on, what it is? Talk to to me."  
  
My brother let out a deep sigh. "A.J., you ever remember dad, uh, hittin' you--you know, givin' you a spankin'?"  
  
"No." I frowned, his question taking me by surprise. "Never. Dad never hit me."  
  
"I know," Rick nodded, his hands clenching the wheel. "But he hit me--an awful lot, especially right after you came along. Oh, you wouldn't remember, A.J., but, boy, we used to get into it good sometimes."  
  
I stared at him, stunned. "Maybe you just got to him, y'know...got under his skin. I'm sorry Rick. I just--I never knew."   
  
"It wasn't your fault, A.J." He shrugged. "Bein' the first and the oldest, I guess he learned somethin' from it by the time you were growin' up." Rick glanced at me a moment. "But y'know, there were times...A.J., after dad and I'd have a fight, that I wished I were you, instead of me."  
  
"God, Rick," I sucked in a breath, the pain in his voice making me feel both anger and guilt at the same time. "I'm sorry." I reached out my hand and squeezed his shoulder.   
  
"It's okay, A.J.," he said. "Really, it was a long time ago, and--look, let's just forget it."  
  
Forget it? How was I supposed to do that? I put my head down, emotions welling up inside me--anger, regret, guilt--and worst of all, fear. What if he blamed me, or resented me all these years?  
  
"How you must hate me." I said softly.  
  
"Hate you?" Rick cried. "What!? A.J., what the hell are you talkin' about? God, I don't hate you...I could never hate you--oh, for cryin' out loud!" With a growl, he glanced around, pulled the power wagon into a sharp u-turn, and started speeding away.  
  
"What the hell are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto the door handle for dear life. "Where are we going?"  
  
"To the beach." He announced. "We need to talk."  
  
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As soon as he parked the truck, Rick stormed out, slamming the door behind him.  
He walked a bit, then stood with his back turned, his hands on his hips.  
  
I jumped out and ran over to him.  
  
"Rick, we're on a case! We can't just--"  
  
I froze, the look on my brother's face stopping me cold. He was livid, and practically trembling with rage. And there were tears in his eyes.  
  
"How the hell could you ever think for a minute that I could hate you?" He gritted, and started pointing his finger at me. "Damnit, A.J., I don't ever wanna hear you say somethin'like that again!"   
  
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" I cried. "All these years...you've been keeping this from me. Why, Rick?! What else haven't you told me? God, how you must have resented me."  
I swallowed hard. "Maybe you still do."  
  
Rick blew out a breath. "All right, you want the truth?!" he yelled. "Okay, I'll give you the truth. Yeah, I resented you, A.J.! There were times, right after dad would hit me, that I resented the hell outta you!" He stared at me, tears slipping down his face.  
  
His words tore through my heart like a knife, and I turned away, tears stinging my eyes. God, it was true. Deep down, the big brother I loved so much secretly hated me. It was the worst kind of pain I had ever felt.  
  
Suddenly, he gripped me by the shoulders and turned me around. "Aw, hell, Kid, I didn't mean it that way." He looked stricken. "I might've resented you," he said softly, "for all of about five minutes. But I never stopped lovin' you A.J. Not once."   
  
I hung my head, unable to speak.  
  
Rick gripped me harder. "Damnit, A.J.! You and mom are all I got. And you're more than just my little brother; you're my best friend in the whole world. You keep me grounded." He paused a moment. "Hate you?" He shook his head. "No, A.J., I could never hate you. Don't you know...I'd be lost without you?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Rick," I choked, tears streaming down my face.   
  
"Aw, geez! C'mere, Kid." My brother pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me.  
  
"I'm just so...sorry that dad...hurt you," I sobbed, my hands clutching the back of his jacket. " I would've...done...something. I wouldn't have let him do it...Rick. I swear...I would've stopped him...but I didn't know..."   
  
"Shh...A.J., it's okay," Rick said, his voice gruff and filled with tears. "You're not responsible for what dad did to me. Yeah, he hurt me...but you were just a baby. There was nothin' you could've done about it."  
  
"You...don't...hate me?"   
  
"No, I don't hate you, A.J." Rick ruffled my hair. "I don't blame you...and I don't resent you, either.  
  
"Then... what...?"   
  
"I just love you, little brother." He said. "That's all."  
  
"Oh, God, Rick," I sighed, relief filling my heart. "I love you, too.  
  
For a while we just sat on the beach, talking and laughing and holding each other while we cried over differing memories of a man we both called father--a man whose dark side I had never seen.  
  
"Come on," Rick sighed finally, giving me a slap on the back. "Up and at 'em. We got work to do."  
  
Slowly, we both got to our feet.  
  
"Y'know somethin', A.J.," he remarked as we stood leaning against each other brushing the sand off of our clothes. "Taylor was right about one thing."  
  
"What's that, Rick?" I muttered as I stood shaking sand out of my loafer.  
  
"Well, he said that we were lucky, because we were brothers, and that we'd always have each other to...you know...lean on." Rick gave me a sly grin.   
  
I stared at him, loafer in hand. "Oh, very funny, Rick."  
  
"Well, A.J.," he said, brushing off his boots, "you gotta admit, it does come in handy at times. Like now, for instance.  
  
I shook my head. "Rick Simon, your logic astounds me."  
  
"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "But you love me anyway."  
  
And as much as I hated to admit it, my big brother was right.  
  
End  
  
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